Chapter ThirteenEliza
Sabbath Day, September 18th, 11 of clock
While sleep eluded me, I went down to see if Alex would take a break from his endless workload and join me in brewing some tea. He was not there. Disappointed, I glanced at his private possessions—his reading specs, his favorite tankard, his waistcoat thrown over the chair back. His scent of Tricorn cologne lingered in the air. I longed for his company.
“Alex, where are you?” I asked his powerful presence. The clock ticked in the corner and chimed eleven times. I peered out the window into a black void. Raindrops splattered the windowpane, came in and wet the table. I shut the window.
I glanced at his desk, strewn with papers, pens and inkwells. I couldn't imagine the president's desk more cluttered. I did not want to know
